I don’t believe I’ve ever done more than one post in a day on TCL — this one is too short to feel satisfying so something will have to follow.

Bit of an unspoken tradition with me until I thought … and why? Well, gives me time to go over the photos, research, etc. But darned if I didn’t come across the neatest thing the other day. Neat enough to make me question.

This insightful work was produced by Chris Hutsul out of Kensington Market. Chris was kind enough to provide a gargantuan version of this drawing as well as a close-up of that adorable house centipede in the center.

Mr. Hutsul is obviously a native.

You know, I really thought that last post about letting your kids wander around alone in a city would’ve been more contentious. Apparently not. Gotta say, the TCL readership is waaaaaay more liberal than I ever could’ve imagined. Cool!

Or you’re still reading. Sorry, it was kinda long. I’ll do my best to keep this one lighter.

Nothing much to say anyway. The Music Garden is supposed to communicate through other senses.

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Generally speaking, that’s a good rule. I usually just smile and ignore, but I was sucked into this one. Why? I offered my seat to a kid. Oi.

Two brothers, I dunno, ten and and eleven, were escorted to the back of the streetcar where I was sitting, by their dad. He sat them down and suddenly realized he’d forgotten to get transfers. The one kid was buzzing to look out the back of the car and he kneeled on the empty seat between me and the matronly, scraggly-haired woman on the other end. His dad sat him back down. Guess he thought the kid would be pestering us.

There were two empty seats across from me – the back  is a half-circle facing each other – so I offered to give the kid my seat. I knew the dad would want to sit with the kids anyways (correctomundo, btw), so I thought the kid might as well have a few seconds of fun gazing out the back of the streetcar. I loved looking out through the front of subway cars when I was young, so I get it. And I honestly didn’t see the harm. The boy was polite, he was obeying his dad, he was keeping his feet off the seats, backpack neatly to the side – damn if that kid didn’t deserve an ice cream sundae!

So shit, peeking through a greasy, filth-covered window for ten seconds seemed appropriate for a young man of that calibre.

Offered it to him twice. Twice he refused.

Scraggly-hair to my left says, “good for you!”, to him. “You listen to your dad!”

Okay, guess she had a point. But you know, not like he’s gonna roll up his sleeve, tie off a vein, and start hitting the dragon back there. Plus, potential weirdo ends up in a seat farther away from the kids. Where would be the downside?

Dad came back, seat gladly accepted. The opportunity was gone.

Oh well, the kid did refuse. And that should’ve been the end of it.

Scraggly-hair pointed at the kids and said to the dad, “You shouldn’t leave them alone like that here. This isn’t a safe neighbourhood.”

Internally, I begged to differ. Oddballs? Painful piercings? Imaginative body modifications? Yes, yes, and yes. Dangerous? No. But, this was still just between her and the three of them. :)

The dad replied, “I teach my sons well and they know how to handle themselves.”

The buzzing kid popped erect, beaming a smile, and immediately added, “We take the streetcar by ourselves all the time. We walk home, we take the subways, we take the buses. I know what to do if I get lost. On this streetcar, if I got lost, I would get off at St. Andrew Station and …”

It went on for another five minutes with the other boy interjecting excitedly in sporadic bursts to further heighten the tales of their prowess. The dad finally stopped them when they got on the subject of late-night taxi rides (if only he’d let them look out the window).

“You never know who’s around them down here. All sorts of people”, responded scraggly-hair after a short pause. “It’s just not safe.”

Then she looked over at me. For fucks’ sake!!

“I didn’t mean to imply that you’re a criminal”, she explained sheepishly.

Steady, old boy, I thought to myself. Not a problem, a broad smile and that’ll be my reply. No problem. I never felt myself to be a criminal, so ho harm no foul. And no statement. :)

“But don’t you think it’s dangerous?”, still looking at me. :(

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“Where to buy weed in Toronto”.

That was the reigning search on TCL for quite a while. Search number two was “city sweats”, followed closely by “Perspirex in Toronto”.

Strange how these things come about.

Sweats and Perspirex, especially as relate to Toronto, are apparently a niche that only this blog can fill. Both searches lead to a post about a trio of miniature commercials I saw one night that seemed to target women with simultaneous dermatological problems, odour issues, and bikini zone chafing. Perspirex, an industrial-strength antiperspirant, was one of the products in the commercials; mentioned in the post more-or-less in passing. TCL subsequently became one of Toronto’s best web resources for sweaty crotches and a panoply of related variants.

The weed search usually returns a link to a post I’d written last May about the topic. Not exactly the Yellow Pages for Toronto’s ganja dealers, but better than a guidebook. My point wasn’t to discuss marijuana anyway, more the attitude towards it in this city. As I’d mentioned, I thought that cops were generally cool with pot smokers. It’s the people dealing the stuff that tend to cause the problems, and I think this is broadly recognized. Most of the people I spoke to at the 420 rally yesterday agreed with me. Then again, they probably would, wouldn’t they? :)

I just discovered this myself, but apparently April 20th is traditionally the day to drag your ass to some hastily-arranged public location (I got the tweet that morning), and at the stroke of 4:20, toke like you’ve never toked before. All in the hope that marijuana will be fully decriminalized.

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It’s looking like that post about Toronto’s urban gardens I mentioned the other day is just not going to happen. Not exclusively, anyways.

Lately, every time I set out to visit some of my favourite concrete-edged green spots, something else comes up. I think it’s a trend.

As I was adding more stuff to TCLand (you haven’t been?! It’s that map icon at the top of the page; basically TCL on a map, current to mid-July 2009 as of this post), I was looking through the archives to see what happened in April last year. That’s when the number of posts jumped … lotsa stuff happening, it seems. I have every reason to believe that this year should be much the same. Although I don’t know if I can count on another Tamil protest happening.

Movie productions, though, probably yes.

They blocked off a section of Victoria at King to shoot a scene for The Thing. Once again Toronto was whored out as New York. Manhattan to be precise. Okay, I can understand not wanting to alienate the massive US market. And I guess it’s a compliment. But one day people will learn the truth about their idyllic New York. Then they can come to Toronto to see what it really looks like. :)

Thing or no, I did actually manage to hit a couple of in-town parkettes.

Berczy Park, unfortunately, wasn’t in full swing yet. The fountain was off and only the early-spring flowers were poking through the soil. I’ll have to re-visit. But the upshot is that the rear facade of the adjacent Flatiron building is mostly visible from the park.

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I started thinking a bit the other day, as I am wont to do sometimes. About why municipal politics catches my interest while, at the same time, I just couldn’t care less about anything beyond that.

I live in Ontario, but other than the way the provincial government’s been hosing the city lately, I don’t follow anything Queen’s Park. Federally, well, who’s our Prime Minister again? Some wet blanket, obviously.

So why do I care? Local politicians may be mouthier than their higher-ups but it’s still politics. Oh yeah, says the brain, there will undoubtedly be rallies and bullhorns and all sortsa shit to complement the summer. Eureka!

Instantly puts a smile on my face. Plus, apparently the local campaign is considerably longer (10 months), than any other level of government, so it tends to attract hardboiled characters. Everything about it just seems feistier, grittier. And I want to be perfectly clear; I definitely DON’T want anyone to be assassinated or even hurt, but wouldn’t an attempt be the coolest thing ever?

The hardboiled characters are in a constant state of flux, which is also a bonus. Back in early January there were 7 potential or confirmed candidates.  The one candidate I just knew would take a pummelling was, within a few months, blasted with a scandal. He shuffled off the stage in tears after delivering only half of his resignation speech (hardboiled characters only, Jammers).

The roster of current candidates has grown to 26, with an additional 6 having dropped out. I’ll try to keep it quick, but I suspect I’ll need to draw on it in the future, so this list may be a necessary evil. No particular order.

← Rocco Kusi Achampong; born in Ghana on Christmas day, 31-years-old, had the foresight to provide a profile photo on Wikimedia Commons.

→ Don Andrews; born Vilim Zlomislic, leader of the neo-Nazi Nationalist Party of Canada and unremitting racist.

← George Babula; no public profile, but let’s assume he’s born in Toronto. It would make sense considering George’s “Parkdale Party” is running mostly on a platform of nostalgia.

→ Andrew Barton;  I thought Jammers was young! I think Andrew is just doing this for a school project.

← Wendell Brereton; the inner city reverend needs to get a name that’s easier to spell. Excellent headwear and best campaign video yet.

→ Douglas Campbell; another old fuddy-duddy with no online presence, not even a photo. His legacy: “If you vote for a capitalist candidate, you’re voting to kill children.”

← Jaime Castillo; is this how they run things in Peru?! Every single thing on the web page (including the “new plan”) links to the 2003 campaign, now offline. You think you’d have your shit together this time around.

→ Mark Cidade; constantly changing hair style may leave voters anxious. Marxidad is a catchy moniker, and I also speak nerd, but is that enough to win an election?

← Keith Cole; right … fucking … on. If one thing’s sorely missing in municipal politics it’s drag queens. Most direct campaign slogan yet: “Get over it!”

→ Selwyn Firth; hides behind a carefully veiled wall of secrecy and factoids. Facebook profile nearly empty. His kind will take over humanity if not contained. Slogan: “Science should trump emotions.”

← Rob Ford; political heavyweight muscling his way onto Smitherman’s scene (see George Smitherman). He’s a contender. Media connections, dad’s political grease, his own largesse around City Hall – all these add serious weight to his campaign.

→ Baquie Ghazi; obvious name problem aside, why choose to email the platform to some random dude’s blog? If he’s not going to be serious about this…

← Howard Gomberg; how can you not love this guy? Stage experience ranks high on my mayoral skill set, as do improv skills. Keep watching this guy.

→ Monowar Hossain; can’t understand a word you’re saying, my friend! I think I picked up “ruling ideology” in there somewhere, and I appreciate you showing off your diploma, but this is not a great platform to run on.

← John Letonja; misspelling his own site name on his own site makes me dubious of John’s qualifications. But I’d still like to see us “build are own products and manufacture are own goods”.

→ Colin Magee: Tweets need work. That is all.

← Giorgio Mammoliti; did I say he looks like a gangster or what? Giorgio’s another politician who’s been around the block a few times and he’s well supported by “legitimate” business interests.

→ Joseph Pampena; I actually think Joseph’s idea of listing the city on the Toronto Stock Exchange is worth discussing. Let’s see if JP Public Relations Inc. (one client?) can get it out there.

← Joe Pantalone; this is the guy in the current mayor’s butt crack, the Deputy Mayor. I guess he’s pretty well qualified, but won’t everyone just step all over him once he’s mayor?

→ Rocco Rossi; sports a Smithermanesque (see George Smitherman) dome and pretends to be Italian, but lacks a red-meat rage. Lackadaisically high in the polls.

← George Smitherman; Furious George has an interesting back story, apt mix of social awareness, a “fuck you we’re getting it done” attitude, and occasionally resembles Lex Luthor. Front-runner and still my fave to win, even if I didn’t like him.

→ Mark State; resume says born in South Porcupine; okay, good start. Experience includes “Casual Worker”. Good.  And “NLP Practitioner”. Interesting. I wasn’t aware that NLP Practitioner was a profession but I’m sure it comes in handy. We’ll call you as soon as we’ve made our decision, Mark.

← Tom Sullivan; he’s busy disseminating his message far and wide. Just not anywhere I can find it. Apparently he exists, that’s all I can say at the moment.

→ Sarah Thomson; Sarah Thomson … Sarah Palin; the coincidences are hard to ignore. Although Mrs. Thomson comes across as carrying more in the attic, her hyper-businessy past doesn’t sit well with me.

← Rata Wadhwa; Rata continues to plug away at his campaign from a very low profile. His 2003 platform of legalized prostitution, pot, free condoms and Viagra, didn’t win him much initial support. Seven years later and his third time around, can this 55-year-old Charlie Chaplin impersonator give the other candidates a run for their money?

→ Sonny Yeung; Sonny describes himself as a “successfully nominated” candidate, probably owing to his “I won’t be an autocrat” left-wing and “I love deregulation” right-wing olive branches. However, Sonny seems unfocused, stating that his “aim is to offer thought and analysis of the whole campaign.” See, I thought it was to become mayor.

I think it’ll be good fun watching these hardboiled candidates crack. I gather that, for a number of them, the campaign is being run for ulterior motives, but for most of them it’s going to be a brutal, sweaty six months. Many won’t make it.

Maybe I’m stuck in my plebeian ways but this is my kind of politics.

So as I was saying yesterday about convenience, here’s a terrific example.

I was planning to do a post about urban public gardens. I know, it seems a little bent at the wrist, but I wanted to do it more in the context of the unforgiving city. Those little squares of land nestled in between caverns of glass. Had a great story ‘n everything. Then this happens:

I know it’s not war-torn Bosnia, but still, you don’t get many brick walls coming down in such a prominent location, in the middle of the day. Extremely convenient for me, if I may be frank. So I believe this proves my point. Unless someone’s suggesting I brought the wall down just to prove a point. :|

Anyhow, can I get a little personal here? I felt totally legit today – schedule ‘n all. I weaved in and out of the news crowd like it was nothing, had conversations with a few of them. Also witnessed a Ryerson student being turned back at the yellow tape. One of the camera guys joked with me with a “nice try, eh? You’re not from Ryerson, are you?” To which I replied, “Hell no.” Reply, *nod*.

That’s how it’s done. No one stopped me when I ducked under the yellow tape. Or stood on the wall. Or the electrical box. QED.

I probably don’t need to tell you what happened if you listen to local news. But if you don’t, it’s pretty straightforward. This wall came down on a street just north of Yonge-Dundas Square, so good foot traffic. Plus it’s the edge of Ryerson University. Some time early this afternoon, it slumped. And then came down. No one was hurt, so very lucky.

See? Simple. Probably the sign attached to the front from what I heard.

I had dinner at the place next door a few weeks back and I don’t recall the building bulging any. Also didn’t notice anything every other day I walked past there either. I use that corner a lot, is what I’m getting at, and can’t say I saw anything untoward.

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If you read TCL semi-regularly, you’ll know I don’t indulge in Top 10 lists. Top 5 either. Top Anything, for that matter. I just don’t find them terribly informative, mostly.

But, you know, sometimes you end up wandering aimlessly for a couple of days and don’t really have a good way to tie any of the resulting photos together. So in that spirit, here’s my list of 5 main reasons why I think living in the city, and in Toronto especially, is so durned good. With photos.

#1 – Spring Chickenism

This is definitely tops on my list. Here’s the thing, I’m down to the last notch on my last two remaining belts. A pair of pants that I’d held onto just in case I ever slimmed down now also require a belt. Some of my old pants are like potato sacks. But very comfortable, I’ll say that. In fact, if it wasn’t for a steady diet of junk food and, recently, Cadbury’s Easter Creme Eggs, I’d be forced to go out and buy a whole new wardrobe. Or some heavy-duty suspenders. I figure bad food is a cheaper alternative.

Now don’t get me wrong, I could still use some … toning. But in terms of my overall physical dimensions, I’ve shrunk. This with not caring at all about what I eat.

Are you asking, dear reader, what kind of exercise regimen I’m on? Perhaps what special “supplements” I take?

Nothing special, I just live downtown.

Unfortunately, I can’t locate the link at the moment, but I remember reading an article that compared the fitness of city-dwellers to non-urbanites. The consensus was generally that people in the city were a little healthier, a little slimmer. On average, of course. And, as I can attest, it doesn’t have much to do with our eating habits

It’s mostly to do with the fact that in the city, walking or cycling are much better ways to get around. One-way streets? Who gives a shit? No parking? I so couldn’t care less. Private property? These boots were made for climbin’, and that’s just what they’ll do.

I swear on all that is good that I’ve matched pace with a streetcar, more than once, from the sidewalk. And I wasn’t even going that fast. It’s why parking downtown is always such a pain; because everyone wants to do it and get around the smart way instead.

But as I’m sure I’ve mentioned, I understand the need for a car for the suburbs. I’ve been there, done that. And the sticks too. They had their charm — but I was undeniably chunkier.

#2 – Conveniencism

Everything is just, like, right there. Everything.

Sure, that store might not have it, but did you try those other six? Within walking distance, I mean.

It’s the density that makes it possible. When you cram enough potential customers together — within walking distance, say — it’s easier to sell niche items. There’s stuff I’ve found in dusty little shops around the city I never imagined I’d find. Or find again.

I ordered something off the web one day. I could’ve had it in my possession in half an hour had I bothered to do a Google search of nearby stores. The ones with websites, obviously.

There are still a few exotic items I haven’t found. Nothing I need, but still. For example, Green Oil, a Taiwanese product intended to be used similarly to Tiger Balm, but it’s liquid and comes in little glass bottles. It’s minty going on and leaves you smelling really nice for the whole day. I can’t even find a website for the damn thing. But then again, there are probably a gazillion local Chinese apothecaries I haven’t checked yet.

It’d be nice to be able to go later in the day, though. I’m watching TV right now. Oh, it’s open 24 hours? On account of it’s economically feasible for them to do so? Great! Back to TV…

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According to Bill McKibben, the environment has it in for us. All of us. Like, real bad.

I got the opportunity to hear him and Margaret Atwood chew the cud on the problem at the UofT Bookstore‘s Reading Series.  After all, the environment lurks mercilessly outside all of our homes, constantly waiting to pounce; needs a brainstormer, no doubt.

What I liked about Atwood was her willingness to delve into the causes of why the environment is being such a dick; let’s not be ignorant of the enemy. That and she brought up coffee and hemp as possible solutions. I like her. :)

So what did McKibben have to say? Basically that, at this point, the environment is already over the edge. Forget trying to slow it down — blast that motherfucker with everything we have!!

He goes into greater detail in his new book “Eaarth”, but wants to emphasize that it’s still, “all a long shot”.

Bill’s message isn’t terribly upbeat, even though he somehow is. Diplomacy, recycling, full-on frontal attack, we’ll need to do whatever it takes if we stand a chance against the environment.

From my regular viewing of public television, I know that small island nations like the Maldives are already under attack. They’re seriously looking into evacuation plans for whole countries, that’s how bad it’s getting. And unfortunately, publicity stunts don’t really seem to be getting the word out.

Bill had a big hand in 350.org, a site dedicated to disseminating information about the struggle. And a struggle it’ll be. According to what I’ve read there, it’s not a matter of if we’ll be attacked, but how severely. The best we can do now is to mitigate the damages. I’m definitely not getting that mortgage now.

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…continued from previous part.

I hope I haven’t misled you, dear reader. As the name implies, Rosedale isn’t all weird and unusual structures. The common Meadow Rose is rumoured to still spring up there, if that’s any indication of the place’s frilly beginnings. Probably still some growing around some of the older buildings. A testament to the fact that some of those buildings have been around since Rosedale got the name.

Back in the day, the community was thought to be waaaay out in the sticks. Maids wouldn’t travel out there so people didn’t want to buy houses for fear of  having to “rough” it. No shit. And there were some interesting goings-on too, like the disappearance of Ambrose Small in 1919, just after he’d sold all his theatre properties for $1.7 mill. Lots of suspicion on the wife, one of Small’s employees makes off with $100,000; sounds like good Sunday afternoon reading. Doesn’t Rosedale seem like a good setting for it?

Also there’s the story of Bill Bull, a prolifically ironic writer on church history, who in ‘31 had Al Capone trying to kill him. Hey, no one ever said that all the neighbourhood money was legit, did they? It certainly would explain why all the buildings have such imposing facades too. Plenty of spots for snipers to sit in wait for assassins. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that moats had once existed around some of these homes.

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